


The Anniversary

by rottnrotty



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anniversary, Battle of Hogwarts, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Grief/Mourning, HP: EWE, Healing, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, POV Alternating, Post-War, Self-Harm, Severus Snape - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-02
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-11-16 19:14:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11259225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rottnrotty/pseuds/rottnrotty
Summary: Five years. It had been five years since Harry had faced down Voldemort, armed with nothing more than the wand of his arch-nemesis.  Five years since losing Fred, Lupin, Tonks,  and countless other friends and allies.  Five years of relative peace in the wizarding world.





	The Anniversary

**Author's Note:**

> As mentioned in the tags, attempted suicide and self harm are discussed, so please proceed with caution if that bothers you.

May the second.

It was Harry's least favourite day of the year.  Once April rolled around, minor restlessness plagued Harry.  As the month progressed, the feelings of dread grew.  By the start of May, his anxiety had reached an all-time high.  

For every other witch and wizard Harry knew, May the second was more exciting than Christmas.

It was the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts, but most people didn't view it that way.  For the wizarding community, it was the day that Voldemort was finally defeated.  

So obviously, May the second was a day of celebration.

Of course, those who had lost someone in the war still mourned their deceased family members.  But enough time had gone by to turn the sharp pain into a dull ache.

Five years. It had been five years since Harry had faced Voldemort, armed with nothing more than the wand of his arch-nemesis.  Five years since losing Fred, Lupin, Tonks, and countless other friends and allies.  Five years of relative peace in the wizarding world.

This year, the party promised to be even bigger and better than ever.  More fireworks, bigger bonfires, louder music.  Planning for the five year anniversary had started as soon as New Year's was over.  Five years of peace; that was a real triumph.  

Each year, Harry's friends and family encouraged him to attend the festivities, and have some fun.  Each year, when Harry declined, they became a little more distant.  Harry had no one to blame but himself.  His friends didn't understand how he felt about the anniversary of the battle, and Harry was unable to explain it.  He found himself slipping away from those he used to be closest to.  Everyone was growing up and making a life for themselves.  Ron and Hermione had married, and already produced a mini-Weasley.  George had found solace in running the joke shop.  Neville followed his dream of becoming Herbology Professor at Hogwarts.  Only Harry was unable to move on.

On the fifth anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry planned to spend it how he usually did.  He dressed in simple muggle clothing of jeans, a black t-shirt, and trainers.  Grabbing the wand buried deep in one of his kitchen drawers, Harry set out to his destination.

* * *

This year, Draco was going to speak up.  In school, he had prided himself on being Slytherin to the very core.  Cunning, resourceful, and ambitious; that had described Draco perfectly.  Now, he would have traded all the peacocks at Malfoy Manor for a smidgen of Gryffindor bravery.

Draco also hated May the second.  Most people assumed it was because he was upset that the Dark Lord was overthrown.  That wasn't true.  Draco was as happy as anyone that Voldemort had been defeated.

He hated May the second because he couldn't stand thinking about the part he played in the war.  Every year, he had to relive the terrible choices he made.  Every year, he was confronted again by how cowardly he had acted.  It would just go on, year after year, until Draco died, either of old age or the utter exhaustion of trying to live a life he didn't even enjoy.

Who could understand how Draco felt?  Not his father, who used the Malfoy fortune to bully his way back into the Ministry's good graces.  Not his Slytherin friends, who used their shrewdness and ambition to capitalize on the post-war feelings of unity.

There was only one person who might have an inkling of Draco's misery.  He saw him, every year on May the second.  And every year, Draco watched him, unannounced, lacking the courage to step forward.

This year would be different.  This year, Draco was going to speak up.

* * *

The grave looked the same as usual.   Neat and well-tended.  That came as no surprise.  Harry paid a freed house elf very handsomely to maintain this particular tomb.  Severus Snape's final resting spot was most likely the best looked after in all of England, if not the world.

As far as Harry knew, he was the only visitor.  Kind of a depressing thought, since he only went once a year, on May the second.  It was off the beaten path, located in a muggle graveyard in Cokeworth, where Severus Snape and Lily Potter nee Evans had grown up.  Snape had been somewhat happy in Cokeworth, once he had made friends with Lily.  Hopefully he approved of his burial place.  If Harry ever found the courage to return to Hogwarts, he would go to the Headmaster's office and ask Snape's portrait.

It still made Harry's stomach queasy, five years later, to think about how awful the war was for Snape.  The man was a hero!  He had been a double-agent, working against Voldemort and providing key information to aid in his overthrow.  Yet he was remembered as a monster.  The worst Headmaster Hogwarts had ever seen.  Dumbledore's killer.

Only seven people showed up at the funeral.  Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Professor McGonagall all came to pay their respects.  And at the last minute, three more people apparated in.  It was Draco and Narcissa Malfoy, both magically bound to the towering figure of Kingsley Shacklebot.

Kingsley quickly explained the situation; Draco and his mother were under house arrest, until their trials.  He was providing security detail, to allow them to come.  The Malfoys had begged for the chance to be there, and no one else was willing to escort them.

As Kingsley spoke, Narcissa kept her head bent and eyes cast down at the ground.  Draco, on the other hand, defiantly raised his chin and locked his gaze with Harry.  In typical Malfoy fashion, the blonde curled his lip in a sneer.  But Harry was too busy looking into Draco's eyes to notice.  What he saw chilled his heart.  Draco's eyes were dead.  He was just going through the motions, playing the part everyone expected him to play.

Just like Harry.

That was the last time Harry had seen Draco.

* * *

There he was, standing silently by Snape's grave.  The hero of the wizarding world, conquerer of the Dark Lord, and Saviour to us all; Harry Potter.  He was also Draco's last hope.

Yet Draco couldn't force himself to speak up.  Because honestly, why would the Chosen One want to talk to a former supporter of Voldemort?  Someone who had taken the Dark Mark.  And maybe even more to the point, someone who had bullied and terrorized Harry and his friends throughout their adolescent years.

This was a bad idea.  For the fifth year in a row, Draco was going to watch Harry visit Snape's grave, and let him leave without a word.

Except if he did that, again, it just might kill him.  Draco already felt like he was slowly dying.  He needed...something.  Someone to talk to, maybe.  Someone to listen, and possibly understand.  Someone to give him a reason for living.

It was a lot to place in the hands of Harry Potter, but Draco had run out of options.  He was desperate.

He became even more desperate when he looked back towards the grave and found Potter gone.  Draco whipped his head from side to side frantically, seeking out the other wizard.  Thankfully, Harry hadn't gone far.  But he was moving quite quickly, and would most likely apparate out of the cemetery soon.  Hysteria bubbled up inside Draco, causing him to shout out in a frenzy of nerves, "Potter!  Wait!"

Harry stopped dead in his tracks, and swung around very slowly to face Draco.  "Malfoy?"  Harry questioned haltingly.  "What are you doing here?"

Draco had expected this question. He had his answer all planned out and ready to go.  'Paying my respects, same as you' is what he meant to say.  What came out instead was, "fuck, Potter, I didn't realize my presence would be so offensive.  Sorry if I've ruined a special moment in the life of The Boy Who Lived."

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Draco wanted to take them back.  He wanted to grab them and stuff them deep down his throat, and choke to death on them.  But it was too late.  Potter's eyes were already widening in shock, and his mouth turned upwards into a jeer.

"You know, Malfoy, I had actually hoped to see you here.  I thought when you came to Snape's funeral, it might mean you were different than you acted in school.  That maybe, just maybe, you weren't all bad."  Harry looked like he had stepped in dog shit.  His face was red and furious, and twisted into a scowl that turned Draco's blood to ice.  "But you are just the same fucking prat you've always been, aren't you?  AREN'T YOU?"  Harry screamed the last two words, and Draco visibly flinched.  "Here's your wand, you bloody wanker."  Harry threw Draco's wand with force, and it landed with a clatter at the blonde's feet.  Draco made no move to pick it up; he was frozen in horror.  "I can't believe I'd been looking forward to seeing you.  I wanted to return your wand, and see how you were doing.  I'm such a fuckwit."

Harry stormed away angrily.  It would only be a matter of seconds before he apparated away, and Draco would be unable to find him.  In agony, Draco managed to croak out, "Potter, I'm-"

"Shove off, you ferrety git," Harry interrupted.  "Thank you for making the worst day of the year even more unbearable."  And with a loud crack, Harry apparated out of the cemetery, taking Draco's last remaining hope along with him.  

* * *

  **What Happened to Draco Malfoy?**

**written by: Rita Skeeter for the Daily Prophet**

 

_Draco Malfoy, former supporter of he-who-must-not-be-named and alleged Death Eater, has been suspiciously absent from wizarding society as of late.  As the sole heir to the Malfoy name and fortune, as well as being from one of the 'Sacred 28' pureblood families, Draco has a lot to live up to._

_It comes as no surprise to many that the Malfoy family is keeping a low profile.  "Scum, the whole lot of them," opinions my confidential source.  "Stuck up, good for nothing scum.  That boy, he always had a mean look about him.  I knew he would go bad."_

_Where is Draco Malfoy?  Should the wizarding community be alarmed by his disappearance? Has he joined forces with another dark wizard?  Some say only time will tell, but I can assure you, dear readers, I will not rest until I uncover and expose the truth._

_story continues of page 3_

_a complete list of Draco Malfoy's crimes on page 5_

_exclusive interview with Draco's ex-lover on page 6_

 

Rita was back to her old tricks, dragging people through the mud to make herself look good.  Harry set the paper aside with disgust.  No one would believe her, right?  Harry certainly didn't.  There was no way he was going to keep reading her lies.  In fact, the best thing to do would be to throw the paper out.

Except, Harry found that he couldn't.  His eyes kept going back to the picture of Malfoy that was printed on the front page, alongside the article.  It was taken years ago, after Draco's trial.  He was leaving the Ministry, and his face was set in a mask of haughty contempt.  His head darted around quickly, as if he was being hunted.  But that's not what kept drawing Harry's gaze.  It was Malfoy's eyes.  They were filled with hopelessness and despair.  Harry recognized those eyes.  He saw them every morning, reflected back in his mirror.

Harry realized with a start that he was going to be late for a lunch date with the Weasleys if he didn't get moving.  Why Ron and Hermione still wanted to socialize with him was a mystery to Harry.  He never added anything to the conversation.  He supposed they felt sorry for him.  It should have made him feel resentful, but he couldn't find the will to care.

Of course, the conversation at the pub was all about Draco Malfoy. Every bleeding witch and wizard had read Skeeter's article, and had an opinion.  "What do you reckon," Ron said around a mouth full of pot pie.  "Draco finally pissed off the wrong bloke and got himself snuffed?"

Harry let Ron's increasingly wild speculations wash over him.  He kept his head down and ate mechanically.  It suddenly occurred to him that Hermione was doing the same thing.  

Hermione was a Healer at St Mungo's. Was she avoiding the conversation because she knew where Malfoy was?

"Hermoine," Harry blurted, cutting Ron off mid sentence.  The red head shot him a slightly nasty look.  "Is Draco at St Mungo's?  Is he ill, or hurt?"

Hermione looked across the table at Harry, and primly said, "you know I can't comment on that, Harry.  I'm bound by confidentiality laws."

True, Hermione was unable to discuss her patients.  Her unwillingness to speak about Draco basically confirmed his presence in the hospital.

Harry knew he wouldn't get anymore information out of Hermione.  She liked to play by the rules.  Besides, he didn't want to jeopardize his friend's career.

But being the Saviour had it's perks, and for the first time ever, Harry intended to utilize his fame to get what he wanted.  It didn't take long to call in favours, coerce, and flirt his way into confirmation that Malfoy was being treated at St Mungo's.  A copy of his admitting record was delivered to Harry by owl the next day.

Harry skipped quickly past the information on the beginning of the form.  Name, address, birthdate; that wasn't what Harry was looking for. He stopped about halfway down the page, when he got to 'Primary Presenting Complaint'

 

 **Primary Presenting Complaint:** _attempted suicide_

 **Admitting Impressions:** _history of: - suicidal thoughts_

_\- suicidal tendencies_

_\- depression and anxiety_

_\- alcohol abuse_

_\- muggle condition PTSD_

_\- self harm and/or past suicide attempts._

 

It went on.  To Harry's total dismay, the form went on.  There were dates and treatments and notes; it was all too much for Harry to take in.  All he knew was, somehow, Malfoy had slipped through the cracks.  How had no one noticed?  The history was there, in black and white on the form, for everyone to see.  How had it gotten this bad?  Why had no one helped Draco?

Harry's mouth grew dry as he remembered his last encounter with Malfoy.  After the argument, he hadn't bothered to ponder why Draco was at Snape's grave that day.  Instead, he dwelled on what a pompous git Malfoy was.  But now, looking back, Harry wondered if he had overlooked the signs of someone struggling.  Maybe Malfoy was so good at projecting his snarky attitude, that others had missed the warnings too.

Pounding, Harry was pounding, POUNDING on Hermione's office door.  He didn't even give her the chance to answer before he was **POUNDING** again.  Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the door was wrenched open by the frazzled-looking Healer.  Harry pounced forward, grabbed Hermione by the shoulders and said manically, "I know Malfoy's here.  Where is he, I want to see him."

A constrictive silence surrounded them when Hermione did not answer.  She glanced at Harry sympathetically, before darting her eyes away.  The frenzied energy left Harry's body, and his legs started to give out from under him.  He gripped the door jam tightly, and slid to the floor. 

Hermione took a big gulp of air, and turned towards him.  Before the words even left her mouth, Harry knew what she was going to say.  He could tell by the devastated yet professional look on her face.  "You are on the barred list, Harry.  I'm sorry, he doesn't want to see you."

* * *

Draco had never considered himself a masochist, yet here he was, deliberately putting himself into a situation that would cause him nothing but pain.

He knew what his mind Healer would say.  That he never had to do this, and certainly not before he was ready.  That he should be in a safe, comforting environment when it happened.  That he should formulate a plan, and have his thoughts and questions written down to keep everything on a positive track.

So of course, Draco did the exact opposite.  It was May the second again, and on a whim, he had skipped his appointment with the mind Healer and apparated to the one place he shouldn't. Snape's grave.  His stomach churned at the thought of seeing Potter again.  It also churned just as viciously at the thought that Potter might not show up at all, and Draco couldn't figure out for the life of him which outcome he dreaded most.

Granger - um, Hermione wouldn't approve of this, either.  As the Healer who had admitted Draco to St Mungo's, she had taken an avid interest in his case, and even more surprisingly, in Draco himself.  Somehow, possibly because she was a better person than Draco and didn't hold grudges like a snotty Slytherin, Hermione had managed to forgive Draco for how he treated her at Hogwarts.  They were working their way towards becoming - dare he say it? - real friends.  

As his Healer and friend, Hermione thought a meeting with Potter was inevitable.  Her goal was to make it more of a reunion and less of a confrontation.  She had been working on it for almost a year, and still didn't know what to do.  Hence Draco taking matters into his own hands.

He had arrived at the cemetery just after sunrise, and as the day went on, he wondered just how long he'd have to wait for Potter to show his face.  His nerve seemed to be slipping with each passing hour.  Finally, as the sun started to set and Draco made his mind up to go home, Potter appeared.  

Draco wasn't sure what he had been expecting.  But his life didn't magically click into place at the sight of Harry.  He was just filled with the same longing he always felt when he saw Potter.  And he suddenly realized that Harry Potter wasn't the answer to all his problems.  Draco's mind Healer would be so proud; she had been trying to get him to accept this fact for almost a year.  He had stubbornly clung to the notion that Harry Potter held his salvation.

Potter had stopped momentarily at Snape's grave, and was now casting his gaze around the rest of the cemetery.  His eyes flicked over Draco a few times.  The disillusionment charm he had performed on himself seemed to be doing a bang-up job; Harry obviously couldn't see him.  Ironically, he had performed the same spell six years ago, during the Battle of Hogwarts, to gain access to the Room of Requirement.  The shame of the memory nipped bitterly at his mind, transporting him back to a younger, more naive boy he didn't like much anymore.  It had been hard, admitting how much he loathed himself.  Draco was still working on accepting himself and moving on with his life.  It was a slow process.

Standing motionless in a cemetery watching Harry Potter on the anniversary of the Dark Lord's downfall was not making things any easier.  Hermione had been right, now was not the moment to confront Potter.  It was time to go.

"Malfoy!" Potter called out, startling Draco from his thoughts.  A slight pause, and then Harry continued screaming, "Malfoy!  Draco...are you here?"

Hearing his given name slip out of Potter's mouth almost pushed him over the edge.  He wanted so badly to drop the disillusionment charm and rush to Harry.  Then Draco remembered how poorly things had gone last year.  How he had been unable to remain civil, and had slipped into his spiteful persona way to easily.  He drew back further in the shadows.  "Bloody hell, Malfoy, answer me....Draco, please," Harry said, his voice cracking.  The volume of his cries were getting lower, until he was almost whispering.  "Please..."

Harry's pleas broke Draco's heart.  He needed to meet with Harry, but not like this.  Not here, on this day.  He apparated directly home, and sent his house elf Cookey to track down Hermione.  He expected her to answer with a floo call or a patronus.  Instead, when Cookey returned, he got a business card pressed into his hand.

 

**Hedwig's House for Homeless Owls & Snakes**

**Rescue, Rehabilitate, and Rehome**

Hours: Tuesday to Sunday, 12-6

Alternative times available by appointment

_Operated by Harry Potter_

 

On the back of the card, in Hermione's scrawl, were the words ' _call him_ ', and a floo address.

* * *

A tinkling bell let Harry know that a customer had entered the premises.  As he made his way up front, he glanced quickly at his watch.  It was just a couple of minutes before closing time.

Even though the person had their back to Harry, he was able to recognize that form anywhere.  White-blonde hair leading down to a slender, pale neck.  Sturdy shoulders and a lean yet toned physique. Harry's heartbeat sped up, and his breath caught in his throat.  He didn't announce his presence, just stood staring at Draco Malfoy's back for a long moment.

Malfoy eventually swung around, making eye contact with Harry and giving him a mildly smug look.  Harry's hackles went up instantly. He hoped that Malfoy wasn't spoiling for a fight.

Malfoy opened his mouth, and Harry braced himself for a snide remark.  "Harry.  It's uh...good to see you."  

Harry gaped at Malfoy dumbly.  The return of Malfoy's smug look reminded Harry that his input was required.  "Er, yah.  Nice to see you too, Mal-Draco."

At the sound of his name, Draco gave Harry a tentative smile.  Harry had never been on the receiving end of a real smile from Malfoy before.  His heart rate increased yet again.  It felt like a race car engine attempting to burst out of his chest.

"I was hoping we could talk," Malfoy explained uncertainly.

Harry rushed to reassure him.  "Yes!" he shouted somewhat exuberantly.  In response to Draco's raised eyebrows, he continued in a much more dignified fashion.  "I mean, I've been wanting to talk to you as well.  I'll just lock up.  Come into the back, I'll make us some tea."

"So, owl and snake rescue," Draco murmured as he followed Harry to the small kitchen at the back of the premises.  "Noble Potter strikes again."

Harry searched Draco's face, and could see none of their old animosity in it.  Oddly, Malfoy seemed...proud?  He smiled at Harry encouragingly. "Well, being a parselmouth, I've always had a special affinity for snakes. They are wildly misunderstood, you know." He took a deep breath and went on.  "And after Hedwig died, I thought I'd never get another owl.  My mind Healer suggested I rescue one that no one wanted anymore.  It's shocking, how many owls get abandoned by their families when they are deemed no longer useful.  Just because they can't deliver a letter doesn't mean they aren't loyal, loving, and affectionate pets."  Harry was getting himself worked up into lecture mode, which he didn't need to spring on Malfoy.  He tried to look nonchalant and shrugged his shoulders.  "I'd been searching for something meaningful to do, since the war ended.  Anyway, that's how the rescue came about.  It's been up and running for a few months now."

"Very admirable," Draco said with complete sincerity.  The lack of rudeness was throwing Harry for a loop.  He kept expecting Malfoy to jump up and hex him at any minute. 

They sat sipping their tea for a few minutes.  Draco was visibly nervous, and kept toying with the biscuit on his plate, reducing it to inedible crumbs.  "You see a mind Healer?" he asked.  A guarded look took over Harry's face.  "Sorry, maybe that's too personal, but you did mention it.  It's just...I see one too."

Harry nodded.  "Yah.  Hermione recommended it, and I finally listened."  He wondered how much he should trust this seemingly placid and even-tempered Draco Malfoy.  

"Hermione Granger," Draco scoffed.  It was so like the old Draco.  "Turns out she is pretty bloody brilliant.  Don't tell her I said that, though."  The smiles they exchanged were pure and bright.  Weirdly, it felt natural to Harry that he was getting along so well with Malfoy.

Sod it, he was going for broke.  "My mind Healer says you and I are two sides of the same coin.  That's partly why we didn't get along well in school."  Harry rushed through his thought; he wanted to get it all out in the open before Malfoy had a chance to interrupt.  "We were both leaders, with strong beliefs.  Both athletes, always competing against each other.  Both born into destinies we didn't choose for ourselves."

Malfoy's prolonged silence had Harry fidgeting in his chair.  Finally the blonde spoke up, "talk about me a lot, Potter?"  Harry huffed out a huge, nervous laugh.  "Yah, I talk about you a lot, too."

Harry snapped his mouth shut with an audible click.  Vulnerable Draco Malfoy was making Harry's head spin.  But things were going so well, he decided to push his luck.  "Why did you come to Snape's grave, that day?" Harry asked in a rush.

Malfoy leaned back in his chair and studied Harry through narrowed eyes.  He sighed heavily, and said, "I wanted the Saviour of the wizarding world to save me."

Harry's eyes bugged open.  "From...?"

"Myself, I guess," Malfoy admitted.  "I was in a bad place.  I had been for a while.  It was just getting worse and worse, and I couldn't find a way out.  Somehow, the idea got stuck in my head that you could help.  You would understand, and you'd be able to fix me."  Draco shook his head and closed his eyes.  "No one could 'fix' me.  I needed to get professional help, and heal myself."

"And you did?" Harry prompted. 

"I did," Malfoy confirmed.  His tone turned scornful as he said, "which you already know, from my illegally procured medical records.  

Harry's face flushed bright pink.  "I was worried about you."

"That's...nice.  A nice surprise."  Draco offered him another sweet smile, which Harry was quick to return.

"So, how are you doing now?  I mean, you know...are you...?"

"If you are trying to ask, am I going to top myself in your kitchen, the answer is no," Draco drawled.  "I'm recovering all the time, thank you for asking."  They settled into a companionable silence, enjoying their tea.  After a while, Draco said, "it wasn't deliberate."

"Draco, you don't need to-"

"I want to," Draco said, as he rolled up his sleeve.  "I wanted to get rid of my Dark Mark.  It became a bit of an obsession, actually.  I tried every spell imaginable."  Draco flipped his arm over, exposing the underside.  "I got desperate, and tried to disfigure the Mark with a knife.  That worked, temporarily.  Unfortunately, the cuts on the Mark healed quickly, leaving no lasting damage."   It was true.  The Dark Mark was perfectly preserved on Draco's arm.  However, all around the Mark were jagged scars.  They seemed to emanate from the mark itself.  Harry reached forward and traced one lightly with a finger.  From the corner of his eye, he saw Malfoy shiver, and Harry hastily pulled his hand away and placed it safely back in his lap.  Draco cleared his throat.  "So, yah.  I got a little too aggressive, the last time, and ended up losing quite a bit of blood.  And the rest you know from my medical records."

"Why are you telling me this?" Harry wondered. "Er, sorry, I'm not trying to be rude.  Just...we aren't friends. Never have been.  So why me, why now?"

"I've been watching you, every year, at Snape's grave.  And I figured, what's the Chosen One doing hiding in a muggle cemetery, instead of celebrating with his friends?  It seemed like you were just as confused and disturbed as I was."  Draco's mouth curled up in a half-sneer.  "I get it, believe me I do.  Why would you trust me?  I was a total prat back at Hogwarts.  Still can be, according to Granger."  He let out a small snort.  "I guess, what it comes down to Harry, is that I would like to be friends.  I think your mind Healer is right, we do have a lot in common, now more than ever.  Maybe we could even help each other."

Malfoy stared pleadingly at Harry.  And like a light switch being flipped on, Harry suddenly understood why Malfoy had come, and what he hoped to gain from this visit.  It was understanding.  Malfoy needed someone in his life who had been through the war, and came out the other side battered and a little broken, just like him.  "Friends?" Harry mused slowly.  "With a Malfoy?  I guess I could try."  He laid the sarcasm on pretty thick, hoping Draco would pick up on it and not be offended.

Of course, Draco being the intelligent Slytherin that he was, figured it out right away.  His eyes rolled in an over-exaggerated fashion.  But a small smile snuck onto his face at the same time.  "Friends," he repeated, reaching forward to grasp Harry's hand in a tight handshake.  And if the handshake lasted a little to long, and the eye contact was a little too intense, there was no one there to witness it.

* * *

Their new, budding friendship started out slowly, tentatively.  Quick meetings for coffee or tea, lunch hour get-togethers with Hermione.  Sometimes they grabbed a drink at the Leaky Cauldron.  It was all very light and superficial.  A gentle testing of the waters of friendship between two previously sworn enemies.

It wasn't easy, at first.  Harry could not have predicted the backlash their friendship would cause.  Draco had been wholly unprepared for the crushing media attention.  Howlers arrived at his house in the hundreds, demanding to know what kind of spell he had cast over Harry Potter.  If Harry had let him, Draco would have slipped quietly into the shadows, never to be seen or heard from again. 

In response, their activities became more private and intimate.  Harry invited Draco over for homemade meals.  They took strolls through the sweeping grounds of Malfoy Manor.  With the added privacy came additional perks; they finally starting talking.  Real, heartfelt discussions about the things that mattered.  They hadn't confided in each other since the night Draco had shown up at Hedwig House unannounced.  No topic of conversation was off the table.  Even when Malfoy got the sulks, or pitched a mini fit, Harry was able to calm him down and work it out like civilized grown ups.

It wasn't long before Harry realized that Draco had never had true friends.  Sure, he had the mindless thugs who did his bidding, and the awed girls who pursued him for his good looks.  He had people that hung around him because of his money and status.  But none of them had understood Draco, or even cared to know him on a deeper level.   Figuring out how to be friends with somebody was a steep learning curve for Draco, so Harry tried to cut him some slack when the blonde hid his true feelings behind petty insults and cutting sarcasm. 

Harry still insisted on the odd public meeting. He wanted to keep their friendship in the minds of the community.  The more common-place it seemed, the more likely it would be to become acknowledged and accepted.  Something Harry desperately needed.  At this point, he had to admit to himself that he couldn't live without Draco Malfoy.

Without any real discussion, both men made plans to visit Snape's grave on the upcoming anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts.  Listening to Draco pour his heart out to Snape, thanking him for his wisdom and guidance as well as begging his forgiveness, had a profound affect on Harry.  He felt his heart swell with something that felt suspiciously like love. 

Harry started at the thought. Love?  When had his feelings for Draco Malfoy progressed to love?  But now that it was in his mind, there was no way to push it out or deny it.  Anyway, Gryffindors were brave, and bold.  They didn't run away from hard choices.

When Draco had finished, Harry walked forward and grabbed his hand.  "Let's go," Harry said with a gentle smile.  He apparated them a few blocks from Grimmauld Place.  It was a spur of the moment decision on Harry's part.  He hoped the location would allow them some privacy, and the short walk to the residence would offer Harry the opportunity to hold Draco's hand for a little while.  Draco didn't seem to mind; he looked at their clasped hands questioningly, but made no attempt to pull away.

The front entrance was as far as they got into the house.  Draco froze, and backed himself up against the door.  "Harry?" he asked in a croaky voice.  

Harry had no idea what Draco was asking, but he couldn't stand to see him look so nervous and unsure.  He cut the distance between them with two quick strides, pushing himself firmly into Draco's personal space.  Their bodies weren't quite touching, but if either of them shifted even a little, they would be.

Harry reached up cautiously to cup the back of Draco's head.  He leaned forward, letting his face drop into Draco's long, delicate neck.  Harry buried his nose in the hollow of Draco's collar bone, inhaling the scent of peppermint and citrus and something else that was uniquely Draco.  His hand massaged Draco's head, playing with the soft strands of hair.

Harry would have been content to stay like that forever, but a small whimper from Draco brought his head back up.  A tiny tear had squeezed out of his eye, and was making its way down his flushed face.  Harry was dumbfounded by Draco's display of vulnerability. It was so out of character compared to the obnoxious prat he had known in Hogwarts.  Without thinking, Harry swiped the tear onto his finger and brought it to his mouth.  Draco let out a low moan as his body started to slide down the door.  "What the fuck, Potter?"

Harry grabbed Draco by the shoulders to keep him upright.  It hurt him more than he wanted to admit, when Draco called him Potter instead of Harry.  He backed up a step, releasing Draco at the same time.  "What do you want?" Harry asked gruffly.

Draco stood sprawled against the door, panting slightly.  "I want..."

Harry balled his hands into fists at his side.  The urge to touch Draco, to offer comfort, was overwhelming.  "You want...what?" Harry prompted.  He knew what he wanted.  But he didn't want to pressure Draco.  If Draco wanted to be friends only for the rest of their lives, Harry would gladly take it, as long as he didn't have to give up Draco.

"I want...damn it, Potter!"  Draco pushed himself off of the door, taking a faltering step forward towards Harry.  "I want to not be put on the spot like this."

"Fair enough.  Maybe I should tell you what I want."  Harry stepped towards Draco, leaving them toe to toe.  He reached out and grabbed onto Draco's biceps.  "I want you, Draco.  I want us."

Draco closed his eyes and inhaled a shaky breath.  "I want that, too."  The admission came out soft and sweet, with none of the characteristic Malfoy mockery.  They really had grown up, Harry realized.  At heart, they were both the same people they had always been, but the war had wrought changes in them both that had led them to this moment. To each other.  And Harry didn't want to waste another minute of it.

"What happens now?" Draco asked.  He had opened his eyes, and was studying Harry fiercely. 

"Now, I kiss you, and you like it," Harry replied with a smirk.  Draco rolled his eyes and wrapped his arms around Harry's neck.  The slight shift was enough to bring their bodies flush together.  Harry could feel the drumming of an erratic heart beat, and with their chests touching, he was unable to say if it was his or Draco's. "Scared, Malfoy?"

Draco's fierce expression dropped into one of fondness.  "You wish," he replied.  "Now hurry up and get on with it."

"Always the bossy git," Harry murmured against Draco's lips.  Warm breath brushed against his cheek.  Harry peeked up at Draco, meeting his eyes.  He knew what he saw in them would be reflected in his own; trust, hope, and even love.

The kiss started out much as their friendship had; slow and tentative, but with just the right amount of heat.  It didn't take long for it to morph into something bigger and brighter.  Harry was kissing Draco Malfoy, and nothing had ever felt this good before.  He twined one hand back in the pale locks of hair, while bringing the other up to work on opening Draco's shirt buttons.  Neediness flooded Harry, urging him to taste Draco's mouth with his tongue.  It was hot and slick and wet and Harry pushed forward, delved deeper, needing more of Draco's intoxicating warmth.  From Draco's reaction, he felt the same way.  The blonde was clutching at Harry's back, thrusting roaming hands up under his t-shirt.  He met Harry's tongue willfully with his own.  For a glorious moment, their tongues were locked in battle, neither willing to give in.  Eventually Harry grabbed onto Draco's tongue with his lips and sucked, drawing it deeper into his eager mouth.  Draco moaned, and rutted his hips against Harry shamelessly.

Finally, FINALLY, Harry's quaking hands had undone Draco's shirt, and he slid it down over broad shoulders and lean, muscular arms.  Draco's breath hitched, and he grabbed Harry's t-shirt by the hem, wrenching it over his head in one quick pull.  The Dark Mark on his forearm drew Harry's gaze almost subconsciously.  He pulled Draco's arm up to his mouth, and pressed soft kisses on the Mark, caressing the healed scars with his tongue.  Harry hoped the non-verbal message of 'I trust you, I accept you for who you are' was getting through to Draco.

Draco's head fell heavily onto Harry's shoulder.  A small sob escaped his lips.  "Dear Merlin, Harry.  Are you trying to kill me?"

"No, I'm over that phase," Harry replied.  "I'd rather lay you down and explore every inch of your body."  He moved Draco's arm so that his hand was carding through Harry's hair.  He then licked and nibbled on Draco's fragile earlobe.  "Maybe I'll start here, and work my way down."

"As long as you've got a plan in place," Draco garbled weakly.  

"Oh, I do.  And if we have time, you can return the favour," Harry whispered seductively.

"Don't be daft Potter.  For something that important, we will make the time."  

* * *

**Epilogue: One Year Later**

 

May the second.

It was strange, how quickly that date seemed to roll back around.  In the past, when Draco had dreaded confronting all that May the second had stood for, his terror and isolation had seemingly caused time to speed up.  This year, time sped by in an entirely different way.  This year, he had conquered his fears, and made peace with his misdeeds, for the most part.

This year, on May the second, Draco Malfoy wasn't alone.  He had Harry Potter, someone who had also done their fair share of soul searching and healing recently.  It had been eight years since the Battle of Hogwarts, and for the first time, they both felt like they could face it.

Together, they made their way to Hogwarts, where the annual War Memorial ceremony took place.  It progressed exactly as Draco expected; a small speech from The Minister of Magic, acknowledgement of the brave witches and wizards who had died in the war.  Then the unexpected happened.  Headmistress McGonagall stepped up to the platform, and placed an old, tattered hat on the podium.  Tears ran down Draco's cheeks when the Sorting Hat opened its...mouth?...and sang a song of acceptance and belonging.  He felt a strong hand grip his, almost too hard, and glanced over at Harry.  He was also openly crying.  Draco felt that sense of longing again, that he always experienced when looking at Harry.  It felt like fate, to be back at the very place where it all started.  First year, when the Sorting Hat had been placed on Harry's head, Draco had wished with all his might that the cute boy with the scruffy hair and ridiculous glasses be sorted into Slytherin house.  Instead, it took an evil dark wizard, a horrible war, and years of suffering to bring them together.  

Lost in thought, Draco didn't notice that the ceremony had ended.  Harry pulled him by the hand, leading him directly to the castle.  They found themselves outside of the headmistress's office, and Harry mumbled 'dragon heartstring' to be allowed admittance.  The office was empty, except for the portraits adorning the walls.  A loud cacophony of voices weighed in on Draco and Harry's clasped hand and close stance.  The noise died down instantly when a piercing whistle split the air.  "Everyone, out.  Go visit your other portraits."  Dumbledore spoke with utter authority, leaving no room for defiance.  "Severus and I need to talk to these boys in private."

Once they were alone, Draco had expected Dumbledore to speak first.  Instead, he was astonished to hear Snape's slow drawl fill the room.  "Malfoy and Potter.  How...delightful."  They both spun around to face Snape's portrait, hands still linked together.  "I find myself at quite a loss for words."  Snape raised his eyebrows and fixed Draco with a considering stare.  "I hope you are prepared for the consequences of hitching your star to Potter's wagon, Draco."  He turned towards Harry, and his mouth quirked into Snape's trademark scowl.  "And you, Potter.  You do realize that Draco is way too good for you, I assume?"

"Yes, sir," Harry replied quickly.  Snape nodded his head once.  Draco could swear he saw the faintest hint of a smile on the potion master's lips, but the next second the scowl had returned.

"I have better things to do with my time than fawn over the love life of Harry Potter."  Snape waltzed out of the side of his portrait.  A second later he stepped back in, grumbling under his breath.  In a low, gruff voice, he said, "thanks, boys, for remembering me, and visiting my grave.  But don't do it anymore.  It's time to stop obsessing over the dead, and start living your lives."  And with that, he twirled his cape, and stalked dramatically out of the portrait for the second time.

"Erm-herm."  A throat-clearing sounded alerted them to Dumbledore's presence, and they turned to face him once more.  Dumbledore was sporting what Draco could only describe as a huge, shit-eating grin.  "My dear boys, I can't say I ever predicted this happening.  I had always hoped that you would set aside your differences, and cease being enemies.  Dare I say, I hoped you might even become allies, and friends!  You always seemed so in-tune with each other."

Draco kept quiet. He had never had a close relationship with the Headmaster, not like Harry.  Truthfully, he still found it hard to look the older man in the eyes, even though Dumbledore was twinkling and smiling at Draco.  

"Er, well, that's how it started," Harry explained haltingly.  "We became acquaintances, and then friends, and now it's turned into..." Harry let the end of his sentence trail off.  A beautiful pink blush spread over his neck and face.  The only thing in the world for Draco at that moment was Harry.  As their eyes met and locked, they didn't notice their old Headmaster slip out of his portrait with a delighted yet peaceful smile on his face.

"Turned into...?" Draco prompted.  He had a flashback, of this day exactly a year ago, when Harry had promoted Draco in a similar manner, demanding to know what he wanted.

Their eyes were still fastened on each other.  Draco was scared to breath, let alone blink, fearing he would somehow ruin everything.  

"Turned...into...love?"  Harry said the last word as a question.  The whole pathetic mess was just so typically Potter.  A love confession, blurted out with no grace or tact.  In the Headmistress's office, no less!  It just wouldn't do.

Draco raised his free hand and smoothed unruly black hair off of Harry's forehead, exposing the lightening bolt scar.  He leaned in and quickly pressed his lips there.  "So what you are trying to say is..." Draco left his lips on Harry's forehead, and they ghosted over the scar as he spoke.  Harry shuddered deeply.

Grabbing Draco's neck with both hands, Harry brought his lips to Draco's ear, and exhaled, "I love you, Draco."

Draco placed his hands on Harry's wrists.  He could feel the wild pulse of Harry's heart under his fingers.  "I love you, too," he replied simply.

Harry responded with a bruising kiss, all pressing lips and grasping fingers.  Draco, who remained acutely aware of their surroundings, pulled back before things could get more heated.  Harry smiled at him sheepishly and said, "let's go home."

As Harry marched them out of the Hogwart's grounds, and prepared to apparate them 'home', Draco realized he didn't even know where they were going.  But it didn't matter one whit.  Because home wasn't a place for Draco anymore. Home was a person.  Home was Harry Potter.

Draco let out a sigh of contentment.  "Home sounds perfect."


End file.
